


Walk the Line

by igrockspock



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For her, he walks the line between logic and love.  Sometimes he doesn't do a very good job of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk the Line

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[fic: star trek](http://igrockspock.livejournal.com/tag/fic:+star+trek), [genre: het](http://igrockspock.livejournal.com/tag/genre:+het), [pairing: amanda/sarek](http://igrockspock.livejournal.com/tag/pairing:+amanda/sarek)  
  
---|---  
  
On their first Christmas together, Amanda receives a toaster, earmuffs, and several pairs of socks. She surveys her husband crossly over a small pile of torn red wrapping paper, which she thinks uncharitably was probably the cheapest in the store.

"Wife, you are not pleased with your gifts?"

Amanda allows her silence to speak for her.

"The toaster has been broken for six months, causing you the unnecessary inconvenience of toasting bread in the broiler. This in turn causes excessive difficulty with punctuality which has attracted your employer's attention. "

Amanda finds her silence very eloquent.

"You frequently remark on the coldness of your ears yet you fail to buy adequate protective coverings."

Amanda shifts a little in her corner of the sofa and tries to surreptitiously study the points of his ears. He _would_ worry about people who don't keep their ears warm. But she isn't ready to be charmed yet.

"Your socks are discolored, and your toes frequently protrude from holes which you do not repair."

Amanda narrows her eyes, her good humor vanishing instantly. Her husband wants her to _darn_ her _socks?_ Sarek shifts away from her slightly, and Amanda imagines she must look rather dangerous.

"At any rate, since you have failed to make these logical purchases, I deemed it prudent to offer them as gifts. You have often helped me to make logical decisions in my own life, and I wished to return the service."

It is true; she has spent hours late at night with Sarek, discussing the teachings of Surak, working through how they might be applied to professional and ethical dilemmas that seemed trivial to her. But it's not a _service_; it's _love_, and she hates him a little for not understanding that. She holds her silence.

Sarek glances meaningfully at the wall clock, more for her benefit than his. He already knows what time it is; he always does. He's reminding her that it's time for him to go to work because the Vulcan Embassy cannot close for holidays celebrated in only certain Terran cultural spheres, and because now that they are married, he has to prove that he is Vulcan by ignoring inconvenient human customs. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one and all. She doesn't make him say it.

"I am aware that I have made an error, but I confess that I do not understand its nature. I hope you will instruct me further this evening." He steps out the door without waiting for an answer.

From any other man, it would have been sarcastic, a final parting shot before slamming the door. But Sarek really means it. He always means what he says; saying something he doesn't mean would be illogical. She hates him a little for it, or more accurately, hates him because she _can't_ hate him for it. If he tried to hurt her, tried to be insensitive, then her anger would be justified. But how can she be angry with her husband for trying to bridge the vast chasm between their cultures and doing so imperfectly? How could she fault him for that when he'd already contravened every ruling of his family and his heritage to marry her? It wasn't fair for her to be angry with him when he had already done so much, but she is not Vulcan. She doesn't have his mastery of feelings and never will.

The door swings open again, emitting a cold blast of air. Sarek peers around the door frame but does not step inside. It would be illogical to bring snow into the house.

"Merry Christmas," he says over the howl of the wind.

"Thank you," she chokes out. Her mother and her friends will never understand how that one gesture is enough. To tell the truth, _she_ isn't sure it's enough. But she knows what he gave up to make it, knows that he left for work at the last possible moment so that he could explain himself fully to her, knows that he will be late for work now -- maybe only by 2.8 or 4.7 minutes, but those are things that other Vulcans notice. They will know why he left for work without extra time to compensate for unexpected obstacles. They will think but not say that he made himself late for work to tell her that he loves her, and they will think less of him for it. And it will hurt him more -- even though he won't admit it -- because they are right about the sentiment even if they are wrong about the exact words that came out of his mouth.

She had intended to throw a shoe at the door after he left the first time, and she still wants to a little bit. But she supposes she can repay her husband's patience with a bit of her own, so she picks up a padd instead. _Suitable Gifts for Wives Who Care about Love More Than Logic_, she writes at the top of the screen. If he does not understand, she will explain. And she will do it over and over again, because no matter how many hundreds or thousands of things Sarek does not understand about humanity, love is the one thing he gets. Even if he will never say the word.


End file.
